


I'm Going, All Along

by legendofthesevenstars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Mentors, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25477717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthesevenstars/pseuds/legendofthesevenstars
Summary: Judith drags Claude to church on Saint Macuil Day, where they hear the story of Macuil's rise to sainthood. Claude's unexpected reaction to Macuil's selfless sacrifice provides Judith with new insight into her protégé's thoughts and feelings about the teachings of Seiros - and a renewed determination to support his unique point of view even if she doesn't share it.
Relationships: Judith von Daphnel & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	I'm Going, All Along

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Claude von Riegan!
> 
> In less than a year, Claude quickly became one of my favorite fictional characters of all time. His view of religion is one of the aspects of his character I love the most, so I decided to explore it through the eyes of the more devout Judith.
> 
> Title from Emily Dickinson's poem 236, “[Some keep the Sabbath going to church]”: “So instead of getting to Heaven, at last— / I’m going, all along.”

It was a good thing that most church services started in the late morning. Judith had never been an early riser by nature. And Tiana’s son definitely wasn’t either.

She’d never had a chance to drag him to church during one of his many stays at her place. Not that he had ever asked to come along. Usually, she let him sleep in, and her staff minded the house while she was out. The first time he’d asked where she’d been and she’d told him she’d gone to worship, he’d only said “I see” and not much else. It wasn’t as if he weren’t being exposed to the tenets of Seiros at all. His grandfather had to be taking him to church.

To be fair, Tiana had never really been much for church. During the war, the chaplain in camp had come around to their tents and offered services, and she’d outright refused him. Back then, Judith had been shocked, clueless that it was even possible for someone to reject the teachings of the church. Now she understood all that it had been a sign of, and recognized the same in Claude’s frustrated groan when she told him he was coming with her today.

“This is what you woke me up for?” Claude sighed heavily from the other side of the door. “It’s barely dawn. I thought it would be something worthwhile like training!”

“No time to whine, boy. Get out of bed and get dressed. We’re having breakfast and then we have to leave.”

“What am I going to even get out of this…”

He’d mumbled it as if he didn’t intend her to hear, but she knew him better than that—he was fully intending for her to hear, and pretending otherwise.

“Don’t make me call someone to pry you out of there.”

“I’m up, I’m up!”

She walked to the kitchen where Jack had set out bread, butter, and jam, and a few slices of smoked meat. She served herself and watched as Claude stumbled in, the ends of his hair still slightly damp from washing his face, and quickly prepared his breakfast, wolfing it down.

Jack cleared the table and fixed Claude’s cravat upon his request, fluffing it up a little and tucking it into his vest. Judith checked herself in the mirror, Claude following—smoothing down his vest and tucking his braid behind his ear, then putting on his uncle’s black jacket—then she shut the door behind them, locking it.

—

The carriage ride was long and quiet. Claude must have stayed up late again; the bumpy ride soothed him, and he closed his eyes, snoring softly, though he remained upright across from her.

Judith looked out the window at the passing countryside. Late spring still had cold mornings, and the grass was wet with dew, even as it was getting greener, the trees growing fuller. She looked back at Claude. The sleeves of Godfrey’s jacket were a little long on his arms. Tiana wasn’t nearly as lanky as her brother had been, but Claude was definitely more compact than his mother. Whoever the kid’s father was, he must not be especially tall.

A particularly hard bump in the road rattled the carriage. Judith steadied herself on the rail behind her. Claude’s eyes shot open as he braced himself against the seat just in time to avoid smacking his face on the door. He blinked a few times, mumbled groggily, and returned to sitting up straight.

“Better stay awake, boy. We’re about halfway there.”

He rubbed one eye with the back of his hand. “Sorry. Was I snoring?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry about that.” He covered his mouth for a long yawn.

Judith shrugged. “I’d rather have you sleep now than during the service.”

“Sermons do have a soporific effect on me. Speaking of which, why did you drag me along anyway?”

“Don’t you know what today is?”

“Nope. No clue.”

“For pity’s sake, boy. It’s Saint Macuil Day. Don’t you know who Saint Macuil is?”

“Of course I know. He’s one of the Four Saints. So what happens on Saint Macuil Day?”

“The service is held outside, for one. Because Macuil was often compared to the wind for his ability to harness wind magic, you sit outside so that the blessings of the wind can pass by.”

Claude smiled a half-smile. “Sounds nice. Every service should be outside. It’s a much more sacred setting than a church.”

“Is it, now?”

“Of course. People built churches and cathedrals, but we’ve got nothing to do with nature. We were given that gift. Seems pretty divine to me.”

Strange way to think, but she couldn’t help but wonder if his mother might agree.

“And is there anything special that happens during the service?” he asked. “Anything that makes it less of a chore to sit through?”

“You’ll hear the story of Saint Macuil. Learn a little more about his life. And—this is the part I know you were waiting to hear—there’ll be a meal afterward.”

His eyes lit up. “There’s going to be food?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place? If I’d have known this church service came with a feast, I’d have been out of bed way faster.”

“I wouldn’t call it a feast. It’s just lunch. Though Macuil was pretty into meat, so it won’t be too light.”

“Does that mean there’s going to be rabbit? Or venison?”

“Both. Meat, vegetables, bread. Potatoes. Maybe a little soup.”

Claude practically swooned. She’d never known anyone to get as excited about food as he did. Not just his favorite food, but food in general.

“And there might be dessert.”

“As long as they don’t overload it with sugar, I’ll be right in line for that, too.” He smiled his half-smile again, then looked out the window, watching the countryside pass.

Once they arrived, they parked outside the church alongside many other carriages. Claude jumped down, and Judith slowly eased herself out of the carriage. People were already milling about in the field behind the church. A makeshift pulpit was surrounded by flowering bushes, and wooden chairs and benches were arranged in neat rows in front of it. Claude craned his neck slightly; Judith nudged him and reminded him the food was inside.

Before the service began, she would be the lady of the hour. Everyone who didn’t or couldn’t make it to church regularly would be saying hello and asking how she was doing and telling her about all their problems on their property and insinuating that Judith should be the one to solve them. Yes, she would be delighted to send troops to resolve a ten-minute border dispute. Yes, she would just love to help divide farmland into tracts.

As soon as they saw her, people began to greet her. She wove past them, trying to get to her seat without being stopped, until a nobleman beckoned her toward him, offering a short bow.

“Well met, Lady Judith.”

“Pleasure to see you again, Marquis Kent.”

“I do not mean to be so forthright, but my concerns are earnest. My wife and I recently had a conversation regarding the situation of Daphnel territory, and I simply must know your intentions regarding Galatea.”

“Well then, ask me.”

“Galatea has been in dire straits for years. All the same, you insist on an open border with the very house that betrayed the Alliance for its independence. Do you truly intend to trust them, milady?”

“My relations with Galatea and the Alliance’s relations with Faerghus as a whole have never been better. Keeping an open border poses no threat.”

“Besides,” Claude cut in, “you’re talking five generations without a Crest. It’s been a long time since anyone from Faerghus betrayed us. If anything, they’d want Lady Judith’s aid. At this point, the biggest threat to the Alliance is probably its southern border with the Empire. Even the Eastern border is calm.”

It had been six generations, but that didn’t matter. Claude had no need to get involved in this conversation. It was for her to handle. She looked from Claude to the Marquis. Oh, boy. The man’s mouth was open, but nothing came out, his hands shaking.

“I apologize for speaking out of turn. I should introduce myself,” Claude began, but the man interrupted before he could continue.

“Who is this, milady? He isn’t _of noble birth_ , is he?”

Judith folded her arms, lifting her head so that she was looking down her nose at the Marquis.

“He’s as noble as they come, dear Marquis. This is my student and protégé, Claude.”

“Judith,” Claude whispered, brushing her arm with his fingertips.

“Allow me,” she answered under her breath, then, to the Marquis, “I apologize on behalf of Claude for his interrupting our conversation. As you can likely tell, his insights indicate that he comes from a _very_ distinguished noble family, and I’m honored to have the privilege of teaching such an intelligent young man. However, his manners aren’t impeccable, so you have to be patient if he decides he wants to speak up. Got it?”

The Marquis nodded, stiffening under Judith’s gaze. “My apologies, milady. I was just going to say that I was… impressed with _Lord_ Claude’s insights. Yes, very much so. I suppose there is indeed no threat from a family that formerly belonged to the Alliance; it was most foolish of me to even entertain any possibility to the contrary. Well, then, I shall take my leave, and I hope to see you at the reception, Lady Judith, Lord Claude.”

As he scampered away, Claude let out a strained sigh.

Judith lowered her head and turned toward him. “Everything all right, boy?”

He stuttered briefly before facing her with an unreadable look in his eyes. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Do you have a problem with being defended?”

“It’s just… you never say such nice things about me normally.”

“What, are you embarrassed?” She snorted. “I know, I never lay it on that thick. But I did what I had to.”

“If nothing else, it’s a welcome change from ‘get your books off your bed,’ and ‘feet apart spine straight,’ and ‘stop firing arrows at the apples in the trees.’”

“Maybe if you quit using my _fruit_ as target practice, I’d give you more praise during training.”

“But at least it’s not anything living! It’s not like I’m shooting birds out of the sky.”

“What’s wrong with the target board?”

“The apples are small and mobile. If it’s windy, the branches blow the apples around so they’re trickier to hit. The target board is huge and stationary. And it’s not exactly a challenge to do what you always do. You get my point?”

“If you want to aim at something small, aim at the bullseye. Otherwise you’ll be deprived of apples to eat.”

He grumbled. “All right, all right. I won’t shoot your apples.”

“Sure you won’t.” She rolled her eyes, though she felt herself smiling.

They sat down on one of the benches near the front. There was a slim hymnal on the seats, and they each picked it up. Inside was Macuil’s Hymn and a few others, all written in their original Ancient Fódlan.

“Songs?” Claude said.

She turned to her left. “Don’t they sing hymns at the cathedral in Derdriu?”

“Oh, we do. But I’ve never seen the Ancient Fódlan written above the modern like that. I’ve heard it, but never seen it.”

“Do they conduct the service in Ancient Fódlan?”

“No, just the hymns. Ancient Fódlan is only spoken in church services in some remote regions of Faerghus and the Empire, and at most monasteries and convents. It’s a pretty recent development, in the past hundred years or so, but all church services are conducted entirely in modern Fódlan because the ancient variant isn’t spoken anymore except among scholars, monks, and nuns.”

“Where did you read all of that?”

“I thought it was common knowledge. Grandpa told me most of it.”

“I didn’t know the half of it.” She paged through the thin hymnal. “Have you learned how to read music yet?”

“Of course not. How about you?”

“Nope. Lucky for you, I’ve sung all of these before.”

“That’s a relief.”

He leaned forward on the bench, staring at the hymnal and mouthing the words to Macuil’s Hymn, stumbling over the pronunciation of the Ancient Fódlan words. Judith crossed her legs at the knee and looked over her shoulder, watching as stragglers filed in. Mostly nobles, though there were a few folks with obviously homemade dresses and well-worn shirts. One of the country women, a pretty thing with a few kids at her skirts, waved, and Judith winked back. For the nobleman making eyes at her, she offered a quick sneer and turned front again with a grumble.

“What is it?” Claude asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Looks like the priest is here, so we’ll probably start soon.”

The priest walked to the makeshift pulpit, standing behind the podium. He greeted everyone, then opened the book in front of him and began to speak.

“Before the story of Saint Macuil, we open with a prayer to the Goddess and to Saint Seiros.”

Claude scoffed under his breath, but he bowed his head all the same. The priest read the prayer, concluding with an amen and moving on to the story.

“Saint Macuil, the second of the four Saints, born after Cichol, but before Indech and well before Cichol’s daughter Cethleann. The Goddess gifted Macuil with magic talent, and under Saint Seiros’ tutelage, he became an accomplished mage, harnessing the wind much like his brother Indech harnessed water. But most of all, Macuil is known for his Journey of a Thousand Days, the incredible story of his perseverance and courage during the War of Heroes.

“Macuil was a powerful general. He led a corps of mages during the War of Heroes. Though he was originally born in the Red Canyon, Macuil spent a lot of time in what would become the Leicester Alliance, and there he met Riegan, Gloucester, and Goneril. Most notably, Macuil met Daphnel. Daphnel and Riegan trained under Macuil, alongside a devotee of Seiros by the name of Chevalier.

“But when Chevalier, doubting the wisdom of the Goddess, suddenly deserted the cause, taking a sacred weapon—a sword as bright as the sun—with him, Macuil was sent on a mission to find Chevalier and his sword. Saint Seiros herself called on Macuil to fulfill this mission. Now, Saint Seiros knew the mission would be futile. Chevalier’s fate had already been revealed to her. He would hide away in a village, abandon his name and conceal the sacred sword, and be lost to history as a result of his betrayal. But Macuil, unaware that he wouldn’t find Chevalier, agreed to go on the mission because he trusted Seiros and trusted the wisdom of the Goddess.

“Macuil’s journey took him across the wide reaches of Fódlan. To the north of the country called Sreng, to the south in the lower reaches of the Empire. Macuil crested the mountains of Fódlan’s Throat and searched the seas of Brigid for Chevalier. A thousand days Macuil spent on his pilgrimage. He was wounded, beaten, and turned away, even when he explained his divine mission. He discovered how people shunned strangers, and how cruel even those who claimed to be revealed to the wisdom of the Goddess could be. On his arduous journey, Macuil discovered the true courage and responsibility required to harness the wind and become a servant of the Goddess and her wisdom.

“When he returned to Saint Seiros, he explained how he had failed on his journey. But Seiros was not disappointed. She was so pleased with Macuil’s maturity and development that she named him one of her fellow Saints, not just by virtue of his blessed blood but also because of his newly-matured character. On this day, the day of Saint Macuil’s birth, we celebrate his courage and adventurous spirit. Now, we sing in honor of Macuil. Please turn to page ten of your hymnals. If you are not in possession of a book, please share with your neighbor.”

As hymnal pages rustled, Claude leaned in and whispered to Judith, “That certainly was something. But I’ll save my thoughts for later.”

They stood up and sang the hymns. Claude only tripped over a few of the Ancient Fódlan words. They sat back down, and the priest delivered the rest of the sermon about Saint Macuil’s life and his power as an inspiration to those living in modern times. Judith snuck a few glances at Claude in her peripheral vision. She was surprised to see he seemed very alert and interested in what the priest was saying, so interested that she doubted he was feigning it. But it was the usual type of sermon delivered on Saint Macuil Day, about courage and the importance of never giving up. Nothing too unique.

Finally, the priest led them in a concluding prayer and said, “Please join us inside the cathedral for a reception.”

“Finally!” Claude almost cheered. He shot up from his seat. “I am so ready for that reception.”

“For all your griping about having to come to church today, you seemed pretty captivated by that sermon.”

“That’s because Macuil and Indech are way more interesting than those other two. Especially Indech, since he’s the patron saint of archers. I can’t be too harsh on either of those guys. They were free spirits. Adventurers.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If they really were real people, and let’s just say they were since we’re near a cathedral, Macuil and Indech led pretty interesting lives. Cichol was a teacher and a writer and an artist, which hey, that’s fine, but it’s nothing compared to Macuil adventuring across the whole continent. I read he was an explorer, too. A treasure hunter in some accounts. And Indech, not only was Indech an accomplished archer—the best shot of all time, and the one who taught Riegan himself in the ways of the bow and arrow—he was a sailor in his free time. A sailor! How cool is that?”

Judith glanced over at his bright expression before she opened the double doors of the cathedral. “Where’d you figure all of this out?”

“Not everything I’ve read is part of any official histories. Some of it is in the official histories, but I’ve discovered a lot in unofficial histories. Some of it might be rumors. But I’m sure a lot of it is stuff the church doesn’t want you to know about Macuil and Indech. Did you know Macuil was never married? And that Indech’s mysterious lover was rumored to be a man?”

“Before you continue your tangent, you’d better think of where you’re standing right now, boy.”

He flashed a fake grin at her, then rushed to grab a plate and serve himself.

His eagerness to discuss religion surprised her, though it wasn’t in the way she’d expected. Macuil’s journey was always presented as a selfless act of a saint divinely blessed by the wisdom of the Goddess, but Claude was more interested in Macuil as a person. Truthfully, in recent years the story had begun to seem a little ridiculous to her, mostly because no one had been keeping tabs on Chevalier. Maybe it was just that Chevalier’s sudden desertion was a little too much like what Claude’s mother had pulled.

Once they’d both filled their plates and sat down, Claude dug eagerly into his lunch. They were silent for a few moments as the rest of the congregation filed in. Hopefully they’d be able to eat in peace without any noblemen bothering her.

Claude had hardly finished half of his plate before his brow furrowed in thought and he hesitated as if he were about to say something.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked him.

“You know, Saint Macuil wouldn’t have had to go on that journey at all. Why didn’t Saint Seiros say anything if she knew it would be futile?”

“That was one of Saint Seiros’ flaws,” Judith explained. “She was very reticent. Whenever she received a revelation directly from the Goddess, she would keep it to herself.”

“Reticent? It seems downright selfish to me. What was Seiros so concerned about that she couldn’t tell Macuil that his journey would be futile?”

“The whole story is less about the fact that Seiros didn’t tell Macuil and more about how Macuil was unwilling to doubt the Goddess and beholden to the command of Seiros.”

“So it’s supposed to teach you to be obedient to your superiors?”

“No. It’s supposed to teach you the power of conviction and following through on your responsibility. Macuil learned on his journey to never give up. If he had known the journey would be a failure before he left, he never would have gone.”

“Huh.” He frowned. “That’s awfully optimistic, considering Macuil went through a thousand days of totally unnecessary suffering and didn’t achieve his goal at all. To me, it just looks like a story about how you should always give in to authority. Not only does Seiros represent the church, she represents authority in general. Be obedient, that’s the central message. Don’t question your superiors, even if they’re hiding information from you and _know_ that your goal is unachievable.”

“Heaven’s sake.” She grumbled. “You really have to sit down and read from the book itself one of these days.”

“But would I really enjoy it more than a history or biography, which actually gives me something closer to the truth, and isn’t trying to tell me ‘obey authority or else’?”

“Aren’t you more interested in the fact that there’s a legendary weapon that’s been lost to time? I thought that would catch your attention more than the story itself.”

“Of course I want to know more about that sword. But I also want to know why Macuil’s senseless decision was presented as a noble act. If that’s selfless, I’d rather be selfish.”

“If I was in charge of you in the Alliance military, and told you to look for someone who deserted and took a very important weapon with them, would you do it, without knowing anything else about where the assignment would take you?”

“Well—” He made a noise of exasperation. “If it were _you_ , I think I’d at least argue the decision.”

“And if it weren’t me?”

“I mean—I guess it depends on the weapon and the commander? Like, is it a Hero’s Relic or just an expensive sword? And what’s my relationship with my superior? It’s not really comparable anyway because you don’t know where the person who deserted is going to go. It wasn’t like Saint Seiros and her divine revelation.”

“I get it. Your whole issue is with Seiros and not with Macuil.”

“I guess it is.”

They sat in silence for a bit, turning to their food. Claude seemed a little less eager about his meal, picking at it before looking at the crowd with a conflicted expression.

“Hey, Judith?” He turned to her. The worry in his eyes was palpable now, even though he was trying—and failing—to hide it.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, though she already had a feeling she knew. She’d seen it on his face before the prayer, and before when Marquis Kent had implied he was not of noble birth. “Are you full already?”

“I feel nauseous.” He pushed his plate slightly toward her. “I don’t know, I think this hen was a little undercooked or something.”

“There’s a few folks I have to at least say ‘hi’ to. Can you make it until after that’s done?”

“I’ll try.” He didn’t look like he was about to be sick at all, but his expression was shadowed by pensive concern.

She gave a few people quick greetings, introducing Claude as her student and nothing else. He kept up his usual appearances until they were out the door and in the carriage, then he sighed, burying his face in his hands as the wheels began to turn.

“What a load of _nonsense_ ,” he groaned.

“Excuse me?”

He sat up, leaning against the back of the set and throwing up his hands. “Church. It’s all a bunch of made-up nonsense. Who needs a priest to tell them what to believe and what not to believe? Just because the guy’s gone to monk school long enough to learn to speak a dead language and tell you stories about chronic liars? If you think there’s a goddess up there and that she’s supporting you, then believe in her. Don’t believe in those stupid stories about people lying to people.”

Judith opened her mouth slightly, intending to retort, but quickly closed it. She hadn’t been lying to the Marquis at all when she’d said Claude was an intelligent young man. Above all else, she respected Claude and what he had to say. It was just that sometimes the things he said made her really doubt that he was Tiana’s son. Otherwise, Tiana had really changed in the past sixteen years, or maybe Claude was just that much of a free spirit, like he claimed Macuil and Indech had been.

Macuil and Indech clearly meant something to Claude, but what they meant to him was shockingly different than what most people in the church would think of them. To him, Macuil and Indech were human beings, just like him. And _that_ would never fly with that priest up there, or most of the other churchgoers. Maybe that had been the reason for the unease on his face after their discussion of Macuil’s story.

But there was clearly more behind his discomfort. He was a fish out of water. Because of his unique perspectives on the Alliance, on the stories of the book of Seiros, and on the Saints themselves. She’d never seen anyone get angry at Saint Seiros before, let alone question her judgment. Saint Seiros was fallible, but those flaws were usually ironed out, or simply used as proof in sermons that even the Lady Seiros could make mistakes. She had been shocked that Claude had felt for _Macuil_ , and in the way that he had. He didn’t understand that Macuil’s journey had been a test of both Seiros and the Goddess. To him—to a nonbeliever—it seemed a pointless venture.

“All right, Claude.” She folded her arms, sitting back to mirror his relaxed posture. “I won’t force you to go along if you don’t want to. From now on, you only come if you’re interested.”

“Ugh, _thank_ you.” He pinched his forehead. “I have to apologize. I don’t mean to challenge your belief in the Goddess. There’s nothing wrong with believing. I just… I just don’t think that everything in that book, or everything that comes out of a priest’s mouth, should be trusted.”

“It’s fine. I understand what you were trying to say. I also understand I can’t change your point of view. Lady Seiros knew when to back off and stay quiet. Saint Macuil knew when to stay silent. And I know when to shut my mouth.

“That said, you need to learn the same. There’s a time and place for every discussion. And the middle of a cathedral is not the place to air your frustrations about the book of Seiros.”

He fake-laughed. “Yeah, I guess I probably should have waited until later.” He frowned. “But I was really fired up. I was afraid that if I didn’t start talking about it right away, I was going to forget what I wanted to say.”

“And watch your words around those nobles. They don’t take kindly to interruption. Even if everything you said was correct.”

“Noted.” He nodded. Then his half-smile finally reappeared. “But I’m really glad you listened to me, even if you didn’t agree with what I had to say.”

“And I’m glad you sat through the service without rolling your eyes or heckling the priest.”

“Hey! I wouldn’t have done that even if you’d let me.”

She laughed. Then, becoming serious again, she said, “I’ll always listen to what you have to say, no matter what. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t even give you the time of day, but I’ll let you talk as much as you want. Even if some of it sounds like blasphemy to me, I won’t tell you to shut up.”

“I…” His voice broke. “That… really means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“No problem. And your stomach wasn’t really upset, was it?”

He shook his head. “I made sure to get to the food myself so any fault would be with the cooks rather than someone with ill intentions.”

She squinted. “Ill intentions?”

“If somebody would poison the food, in other words.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen in the middle of a country cathedral. I didn’t even tell that noble that you were the new heir. I assumed you’d tell him if you wanted him to know.”

“I guess I just supposed that news spreads fast. But maybe some people still don’t know.”

“It’ll probably be a long time until everyone knows you.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a thousand days before they know who I am.” He winked.

“Very funny.”

Claude turned back toward the open window, watching the afternoon sun crest over the country hills. Judith watched him for a while, hands folded in her lap. Everything about the boy—the distance in his eyes, his eagerness to devour every book, and his adoration of Macuil and Indech—seemed to indicate that one day he’d embark on a grand adventure of his own like Macuil’s, but until then, she’d be right behind him, believing in him with the same ardor and conviction that Macuil himself had possessed. The only people she’d ever believed in more were his mother and the Goddess, and though she’d had to give up on his mother, she would never give up on the boy, or the woman who watched over all of them from on high.


End file.
